I'll Be Good
by Enigma Dark XIII
Summary: The beginning of an end... The past can never stay buried, and the truth can be an even heavier burden to bear when a young woman attempts to rebuild her life from scratch in a world scarred by disaster.
1. The Motherly Big Sister

Enigma here after a long hiatus and a new computer system! Granted it still has a few bugs here and there, but that's technology for you. Any who, I apologize to all my readers, followers and favs for the long journey I suddenly had to take, so to make it up to you all and to brush up on my writing skills, I've posted the first chapter of this lovely little story in honor of one of my favorite games: Final Fantasy VII! As most gamers whose soul has been sold to Square Enix know by now, FF7's plot is EXTREMELY complicated and convoluted. So many OVAs and movies and brief episodes, I'm still trying to watch them all XD So I ask that one reads with an open mind and even bigger heart as I cannot memorize everything bit by bit ^^' Updates may be a little slow at first, but I will try to stay consistent with at least one post per week. Do enjoy!

I do not own Final Fantasy VII.

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Why must such a disgusting and inconsiderate show of vulgarity stand in the center of all that was meant to be restored and revived? From the ashes and rubble of was once a smog clouded metropolis of greed and deceit, and coated with the blood, sweat, and tears of the innocent stands before me the equivalent of modernized absolutism. A sad and pitiful attempt to monument humanity's greatest downfall, a glimmering memorial of those who had lost their lives in the place of those who only wanted more, a ploy to win over the hearts of whom had fallen so low and those that seek refuge within the confines of this dismembered city of bone... a tunnel through which the evils that sent the planet into the darkest darkness could sneak in and take their throne once more...

... A shining, platinum piece of shit...

My eyes narrowed into a harsh glare as I gazed upon the bane of my existence, the urge to spit on its grey clouded sheen crossing my mind and was nearly pass my lips. Unfortunately, as quick as the intention came to me, it left me sighing and rubbing my face down in regret. It was slowly becoming a routine. As I would walk by the center memorial on my way back home, I felt drawn to stare it down, and hoped that maybe one day it would melt into a pile of hot magma underneath my intense scowl. I counted five minutes as I stood there with the same intention, with a different amount of saliva and bile rising and begging to kiss the reflective gloss of this disgusting statue. The same snarl threatening to leave my throat and rattle the monument into the scrap metal it's suppose be caught at precisely four minutes seventeen seconds. Any saliva and other contents that lingered were quickly swallowed at four minutes thirty-five seconds. And whatever time that remained was spent regretting being such a goody two-shoes.

After well over a year, I still couldn't work up the nerve to do the deed.

I sighed, annoyance clear on my countenance but a feeling of sadness bubbled in my chest. It lingered even as I walked away from the center square with my wagon full of metal debris, the wheels crying and my spoils rattling as I weaved through the crowd of people that wandered around the main street. It was an easy task for me; as I would walk by, eyes tracing the cracked brick and concrete with an absent and thoughtful glaze, the sound of jingling metal would alert the crowd of my presence. They would turn to look, mostly to satiate their curiosity as to what could be making such a racket, but then their faces would twist in disgust or something akin to fright as they trailed up to the dirtied beige bandages that were wrapped around my neck. Some spouted harsh or rude words, some were gracious enough to spit in my path (a nice little amount of spittle got my shoe. How lovely...), but most were polite enough to keep their mouths shut and move on. Only a select few were kind enough to send over glances of undisguised pity. Those were the people I hated the most.

An early morning chill caressed my shoulders and nipped my nose with playful bites, and if it wasn't for the cloud filled skies and slight warmth from the half-risen sun, I would've believed winter was well on its way. Thoughts of freshly fallen snow layering the cement in a blanket of ice and slush as the wind danced amongst a flurry of white dressed dancers graced a child-like smile upon my lips, but only for a moment. Eventually the moderate warmth of the air followed by the brisk wind tickling my legs and swirling around my long skirt would bring me back to reality, and the smile that once played on my cheeks fell back into its neutral, emotionless state.

It was the nearly the end of summer, and this wasn't Icicle Inn. It would be a long time before snow would fall in this god forsaken excuse of a city, and even then, it would only cause problems. Illness ran rampant through the streets of Edge lately, and with it came a dark foreboding that could only be felt by those who were chest deep in black oily pus.

As I entered one of the many back roads that rooted from the main streets, the smell of despair became potent with each step (I kid you not, there really is a smell to despair. Like mold and vomit I think...). The boulevards, while neatly paved and a polish dreary gray were littered with the ill and downtrodden children of Edge. Truly it was a depressing sight that these children, whose eyes were still alit with the fires of innocence and hope, and whose countenances bore a saddening expression were one in the same with me whose luck was sorely lacking. Some were playing harmlessly through the streets with friends, giggling and laughing as though their lives haven't been ripped out from under them. A fight to keep as much carefree innocence as they had before the fall. It was a cherished sight to see and slowly brought a small smile on my face. Others who were less optimistic than their cheering counterparts simply sat on the steps of their homes outside their door, watching with fogged eyes and clouded in what could only be perceived as self-loathing and loneliness. I recognized the look far too well.

A few of these lovely children had stopped in their game hearing the rattling of my metal filled wagon and stared on in curiosity and confusion. As if the sight of my face were a new experience, when I was sure that I had crossed this path many times before. Others saw the bandages wrapped around my neck and thought better to leave me be, for they believed I was just the same as them. Gray spotted skin was a common eyesore for many of these children, an indicator of the geostigma that rotted their bodies from the inside out. Living in Edge has familiarized me with the disease (turning flesh to puddles of pus and spreading over the body like a malignant tumor until the subject eventually dies a slow and painful death), so it was nothing new. A sad observation on my part, but I've no choice in the matter.

"Hey!" a soft voice called, the source so close it startled me out of my reverie. I looked down, eyes of muddied brown landing on the head of a young girl with hair of sweet chocolate pulled into two pigtails and eyes a bright brunet. Behind her stood a little boy, possibly her little brother who bore the same appearance, both in ratty clothes and dirtied cheeks. While the boy remained behind his sister out of shyness, the little girl of nine or ten years stood fearless in front of me, her eyes stern and dripping with the will to fight. It was awe inspiring, for in that moment I spotted blotches of gray puss filled skin and sores shielded behind their clothes.

'They have the stigma...' I thought, observing them with a keen sense of reverence rather than pity. Standing so tall and bold in the face of a total stranger, I had to admit, these children had guts. I stared at them as such for a long time pondering what their purpose was for stopping me in a middle of the deserted street until the girl boldly pointed to something caught within one of the wheels of my wagon cart. Following their gaze, I spotted a small toy. A moogle doll with fur plush and white stained in specks of dirt and debris, and the biggest, plumpest nose I've ever seen.

"You ran over it," the girl said with finality, a pout puffing out her youthful cheeks as she scrutinized the dull confusion in my expression.

I mouthed an 'o' in realization of my blunder and gave a soft, apologetic smile as I kneeled to untangle the toy from my wagon. It took a minute to lift the heavy cart without completely capsizing my cargo, but after brushing soft dirt and scuffs off its blanched fur, I held it out for the children to take. The little girl and boy stared for a few moments with an air of distrust filling between them and the toy clutched in my hands. I had no doubts they were suspicious of my motives, for many people nowadays were more concerned with themselves rather than others. But in truth, I saw no use for it. I had no benefit in stealing a toy away from people who truly needed and valued its comfort, so I patiently kept my hand outstretched, my stare never wavering.

The little girl then lays eyes on the soft brown gauze around my neck, and her gaze softens into that of mutual understanding. She gently takes the doll back, careful not to touch the tips of my fingers, and handed it back to the timid little brother who hugs it in his arms, welcoming its soft cuddly security.

"Thank you..." the child muttered, looking away with an air of shyness. I simply gave a nod of my head and stood straight, gripping the handle of my wagon once more. I was set to leave again until I felt a small tug at the end of my skirt.

"Um... you... have it too..., right?" the little girl asks, setting her once fire lit eyes upon my own and trailing back to the bandages that wrapped around my neck.

I smiled softly at this and shook my head sadly, the little girl's demeanor falling slightly. 'No ... I'm afraid I don't...' I unconsciously touched the rough tape swaddling my throat as a brief sting jolted through the skin. The pain often lingered.

"Oh... but, how come you wear those around your neck?" She asks, her child-like curiosity reining supreme. I almost laughed at the question. Children truly have no censor or tact at this age, do they?

As I couldn't give a proper reply, I instead ruffled her hair with a soft smile and stood once more, heading down the alley with my wagon jingling as I went. I paid no mind to the inquisitive prying eyes of little ones as I walked deeper into the back alley towards my makeshift home in the deepest crevice of Edge. I couldn't stop to satiate every child's queries; why I didn't shoot back in revulsion upon seeing their open sores or why I didn't just keep the toy for myself and leave the children standing as downtrodden as the rest of them. It wasn't that I was ignorant as most people would assume. No, I saw the bodies that littered the streets covered in blackened ooze and breathed the same smell of death and hopelessness as any other citizen taking refuge in this pathetic eyesore of a city. Any other person with two eyes and a decent amount of sense can consider my eyes and see the opaque lifelessness that had taken shelter within them, snuffing out any light that could've been salvaged, could've been relit.

But after years of fighting through the streets of lower Midgar, barely escaping the Sector 7 plate with me and my brother's life intact and having to rebuild our lives once more after Meteorfall had pulled whatever peace we had established out from underneath our feet, I'm doubtful there's anything left within them.

It was with a heavy sigh and a small smile that I had finally reached the front door of my home. It wasn't much to look at; a standard box like structure melded into the walls of other buildings that rose from the earth. It was smaller than most homes for we could only occupy the bottom floor with the money I scraped up from doing odd jobs here and there, but it was just enough for my little brother and I to get by without starving our wallets. It was centered in the quietest part of Edge (much to my brother's protest), and luckily people rarely came this far back in fear of running into something unsavory.

I parked my wagon by the steps out front to retrieve later, and as I moved to open the door, a faint cough sounded from behind me. I didn't have to turn around to see that the little girl from before had followed me here; I sensed her presence trailing behind since our little meeting, and figured she'd stop once she got bored.

'Apparently, I was wrong…,' I thought with quiet laugh and opened the door, looking back to see both her and her brother attempting to hide behind a pile of trash set by the street corner. With one hand, I ushered them to follow me and walked into the house, hearing their shy footsteps hastily rush in from behind.

Do they have no idea of the concept "stranger danger"?

I half expected them to groan and pout from the lack of colorful décor and toys, but it appears they seemed more interested in exploring the empty carcass that served as a shelter for my brother and me. The living room was bare, a small futon laying unmade against the far wall with a small nightstand flanking its right. Clothes lay messily on the floor (I rolled my eyes at this, reminding myself to scold my brother later for leaving it such a wreck), and from that room followed the hallway which led to a small kitchen in the back, the place wiped and dusted clean with dishes sorted on racks and stacks on the counters waiting to be put away. A fridge stood off to the side, its contents I'm willing to bet were bare after last night's sandwich poaching, courtesy of my brother.

As I moved to pick up the piles of clothes left behind, the little boy decides to speak.

"This is where you live?" he spoke with a light rasp in his throat. I had to remind myself to get him something for that in a little bit.

I gave a short nod, pulling out a basket from the hallway closet.

"Do you live all by yourself?" the girl was next.

I shook my head, routinely tossing dirty laundry into the hamper.

"Do you live with your mommy and daddy?" the boy asked.

'Kid, I don't even know them,' I wanted to say, but I chose to shake my head instead. Once all the laundry was collected, I moved to grab a broom from the closet and to start my sweeping.

The little girl blinks and asks with a small tilt in her head and crossing her arms, "Then how come it's so quiet-"

She jumps when a loud crash and a series of curses erupt from the right hallway. She ran to grab her startled brother whilst I rolled my eyes, putting the broom to the side to check out this morning's collateral damage.

The children followed me into the hallway with their hands clasped together, hiding behind my waist with narrowed and suspicious eyes. I simply sighed and rolled my own with my hands on my hips, looking down on the figure lay sprawled on the floor in a half-asleep daze.

He was a boy of seventeen years with skin dark as caramel and his long hair pulled back into a messy ponytail ending in the middle of his back. He had dyed it black months ago, using the dye I had tucked safely away in a trunk many years ago to match my own deeper ebony, and as he tried sitting up, his light toffee eyes, still full of youthful radiance, flashed with frustration as the struggle to get back on his feet become prominent on his features.

He didn't even bother changing out of his plaid pajama pants and white t-shirt, the lazy bum.

"D-Damn it…!" he cursed as his body failed him, falling to the floor in a mess of limbs and freshly cleaned sheets. The children behind my legs giggled at the sight and the unfortunate boy stopped in his ramblings to look up at the source, a look of strained graciousness stretching his cheeks and a nervous laugh erupting from his throat.

"H-Hey sis! You're back early…" he said with a small chuckle, laying on the floor as if it were common place, "As you can see, I decided to sleep on the floor. You know, back trouble and all."

I rose a small thin brow, noticing a sizable dent in the adjacent wall and the bruise forming on his right shoulder. 'Yeah right. Back trouble my ass. Look at the size of that dent, the cost it'll have on our rent will be outrageous.'

Seeing the look on my face, he sighs and extends a hand, "Just help me up, will ya? I didn't know what time you were gonna get home and I got hungry…"

After shaking my head at his stupidity, I kneeled and hefted his arm over my shoulders, effectively lifting him off the floor and putting most of his weight on my back to support him. Mind you this was a tricky task, as he was very tall for his age and towered over my small frame if he stood up straight, but I managed quite well since he contracted his illness.

With a sigh, he smiled softly and kissed my cheek, "Thanks Pepper," and turned towards the little ones that surrounded my legs in curiosity, "Who are the runts?"

"Hey! We aren't runts!" the little girl exclaimed in a huff while the brother simply stayed by her sister's side, glaring.

In answer, I gave a small shrug. 'I honestly have no idea. They just followed me home after I ran over their toy with the wagon.'

My brother, Eli, nodded his head and laughed softly as I led him to the futon in the living room, "What's with you and attracting all kinds of strays? I swear it's like you're pied _Pepper_!"

I gave him a rough jab to the gut and tossed him on the futon, giving him a playful glare. 'That was terrible.'

"Oh c'mon! That was comedy gold and you know it!" he laughed, earning another strike to the head as I moved to cover him with the sheets, "Seriously though, haven't you kids heard of stranger danger? It's not safe around here." He gave them a stern look.

"We know that!" the little girl argued and crossed her arms, "We just… wanted to see where she was going with all that stuff!"

"Stuff huh…? Her wagon you mean," He hummed in thought and shook his head, "Even if you got curious, it's not really your business where my sister goes. You're lucky we aren't serial killers or else you'd be in trouble."

The little boy was the one to speak next as I tucked in my brother with the brown stained bed sheets we had left over, his eyes wide and curious, "What's 'cereal' mean? Not... the breakfast kind?"

Eli could only contain his laughter for a few precious moments before it started bouncing off the plain white walls that surrounded us, eliciting an indignant pout from the little children and another eye roll from me as I went to get their medicine.

"It's nothing kid, nothing," Eli chuckled briefly before settling on his stomach and resting his chin on the pillow the futon graciously provided, "But if you really want to know what's in that wagon, I'll tell ya."

"Really? You will?" the girl asked, suddenly filled with a mixture of suspicion and youthful excitement.

Eli nodded and gave me a quick smile as I knelt beside him with a first aid kit and a bowl in my arms, "That's right. But first, we gotta introduce ourselves!"

I gave him a weird look and judging from the hysterics coming in waves from the strange teenage boy, the little ones were doing just the same. 'Wow, way to jump right in, Eli. Talk about an exposition."

"Don't give me that look, sis! This happens all the time in those little books you like reading so much!" Eli grinned with a hint of mischief in his tone, "The heroine and her dashingly handsome brother stumble upon a couple of lonely orphans with whom they quickly take under their wing due to their similar tragic circumstances. It's that destiny crap you go on and on about-!"

A knock to the head was all he needed to finally shut his trap.

Eli groaned, "Come on, Pepper! The sister character is supposed to be kind, sweet, gentle and motherly!"

'What kind of crap have you been smoking?' I thought with a hint of sarcasm, giving him a blank look as I opened the kit.

"Anyway," he ignored the look and smiled gently at the children, "My name's Eli. It is an honor and upmost pleasure meeting your acquaintance."

The little girl spoke next, tilting her head a bit in confusion, "Okay…? Well… m-my name is Meri. And this...," soon her brother began yet another coughing fit, and she hurriedly went to comfort to the poor dear as he proceeded to cough his lungs out and wheeze from the strain on his throat.

After pulling out a jar of cough syrup from the med kit I salvaged from beneath the sofa, I carefully poured a small amount in a teaspoon, and motioned from them to draw closer. They were once again hesitant, and the brown sticky substance sloshing about the spoon didn't seem appetizing, but after a few moments and ushering yet another honest look upon my brow, the little girl gently guided her brother forward.

He clutched the moogle toy closer in one arm and pinched his nose with the other as I slipped the spoon into his mouth. The cherry medicine flavor didn't sit well on is taste buds and he cringed noticeably as he quickly swallowed the contents down his congested throat. "Bleh!"

I gently pet his head for doing a good job (and to keep him quiet for a bit), and carefully continued my work.

"Your throat should start feeling better," Eli said for me when silence took over the room for the briefest moment, "That cough syrup works wonders. Just be careful, it can make you drowsy pretty easy."

"U-um… thank you…," Meri said awkwardly, and then remembered her introduction, "Oh! This is my little brother, Kenji."

"H-Hi…," the boy said nervously, clutching the doll and leaning against his sister as the medicine began taking effect.

"Nice to meet you," Kenji's shyness did nothing to deter my brother's seemingly bright hospitality as he smiled kindly, "Looks like we're both little brothers, huh? This is my lovely big sister, Pepper," he gestures grandly towards me to salvage whatever sisterly fantasy he was plotting out for me, but I was already exiting to the hallway closet to get more towels, "Pepper! That was your cue! The big sister character gives a heartwarming smile, setting her up as the motherly figure amongst her gathering of hopeless orphans!"

'Quit your griping and get off the floor before you gather dirt on your clothes,' my look spoke clearly with bored eyes as his upper body fell onto the hardwood, false tears slipping from his eyes, 'I'm not doing the laundry again this week.'

"So cruel…"

Meri looked between us and stared at Eli with a blank look, "You're weird…"

I smiled at the sound of Eli' heart breaking. 'I think I'm going to like this kid.'

It was then that after everyone had settled in, I decided to make breakfast before attending to my brother's ailment. Better to do it now than to have to disinfect myself later. It'd take too long and my patience was slowly wearing thin.

We gathered around the occupied futon with steaming hot plates of food in our laps, eating peacefully between piles of tossed laundry and first aid equipment as Eli explained our tale of woe with great gusto and fried egg masking his sentences. I doubt the children understood a single word as they were too busy scarfing down their breakfast to pay much attention and Eli finally choked on a bit of toast and jelly caught in his throat, and with a watchful eye I oversaw the activities of each my so-called "gathering of hopeless orphans". I don't think I've been amongst so much liveliness in years, not since I was a child. It was… odd. That's the only way I could've put it. Odd, and in so many ways it felt as if I was falling into some sort of lucid dream. Even the food, which would normally turn to tasteless ashes in my mouth melted into some semblance of flavor, and I approached this revelation with such suspicion and wary that I was tempted to push the plate away if it weren't for my stomach crying out for more.

The last time I had eaten such a boisterous meal was several years ago… under the muck and grim of the sector five plate. That day still resonates within me, a fond memory, the only memory I had deemed worthy enough to keep. It was my brother and I… a young woman… I think she was older than me by a couple years, yet I couldn't recall a face to match that heavenly voice of hers. The scent of flowers…, I remember that scent very well, and a light that shined down from raptors in soft beams as dust danced through the spotlights. It calmed me down… soothed me after some kind of ordeal I had during that time. What exactly it was, I couldn't be sure. I had dealt with a lot back then, taken so many odd jobs at once, that it all meshed together into a single glob in inconsistent mush. I doubt even my brother remembers, but I couldn't be too sure.

He keeps a lot to himself. So much so I begin to wonder all that lies within that mind of his…

"So, all those metal pieces…," Meri began thoughtfully as I took away everyone's plates and stacked them in the kitchen sink to wash later, "They were for you?"

"W-Well some of them," Eli coughed up the last of his food that caught in his throat before giving a small smile, "Pepper likes to hunt around for spare parts and pieces of sheet metal, and she sells them to local shops who could use them for their buildings. Lots of people, even little kids used to scavenge around when Edge was just getting started. Anything that's leftover she gives them to me so I can work with them. I guess you could say I'm good with my hands."

"Oh, is that what all this junk is for?" the little girl continued, looking around at the little metal trinkets that were scattered about and hung around the walls, eyeing a particular wall piece in the shape of rose. It was rusted, the metal was crinkled and bent into odd angles to form the stem, leaves, and petals that graced the light bulb placed in the center. It was one of his livelier and elegant pieces, and as I walked back in with a wash tub of water, I couldn't help but smile lovingly at the little details put into it.

Eli didn't take offense of the girl's lack of tact this time, and explained further in a tone that could rival any prophet in its sagacity, "I suppose you're right. To a lot of people, all this stuff would seem like junk. And I don't mind it, because it _is_ junk. It's crap to the highest degree. But when you're born with nothing, live with nothing, start out with nothing, this trash is the greatest treasure we could ever receive. Because with this treasure, we can mold it… burn it… break it and bend it…," his lips curved upward in a soft endearing smile, "And it would still hold strong…, still have its uses, no matter how many times life tries to destroy it… I guess in a way, it's just like people are."

"People aren't made of metal," Kenji was the next to speak, an innocent look on his brow as he watched Eli sit up on the couch with a pained look on his face.

I hurriedly rushed over with the wash tub of water and a rag, and eased him up so that he was more comfortable, eyeing the back of his T-shirt with a small look of disdain. The children noticed as well, and their little eyes, once filled with wonder were now filled with mutual grief; mutual comradery as they took in the black and grey spots soaked along the back of his once crisp white shirt.

The young seventeen-year-old boy, after removing his shirt so the rest of his stigma was exposed to me, gave the children a smile so conflicting with sadness and graciousness I doubt even he understood what he was doing, "It's true. People aren't made of metal…, but we try to be. Try to emulate it so that whatever life throws at us, we won't break. We won't burn up. We won't fall apart."

I gave Eli a soft smile from behind as I gently wiped at his back, his words speaking truths about the human condition that many seemed to have forgotten in these days. Even I myself have forgotten his little analogy for everything, and hearing it again has a way of lifting my spirits just a tad. Not enough to make a difference, but enough to bring some life back into my eyes and into the smile I once wore as a badge of pride. Such thought filled words rarely ever flooded between my dear brother's lips since the day he contracted his illness, and for a long time I believed the light from his is eyes, the warmth from his soul was as good as gone. He was all I had really. Taking care of him, making sure that fire stayed lit despite all the elements that threatened to extinguish it, this was my life… my everything… the only thing that made my existence tangible in this world…

"OW! Pepper! That really stings!" the once sage-like boy whined and moaned with pain filled tears I pushed a little too deep into his skin while cleaning. Such a thing was enough to make the children burst into gales of laughter and even elicit a small soundless giggle from my lips, the teenage boy prattling on about mean older sisters and their one job in life to torture the young. A light feeling in my chest, a feel of adoration and joy raised a spark in my eyes and within my soul, a thing that could only be done from my little brother with whom I cherished more than anything. Seeing him so light-hearted, a complete contrast to his usual listless and passive behavior as of late, it nearly brought tears to my own eyes. My little brother…

The light of my life…

The only thing I have left of this world…

My sole purpose for living…

Brought back to life by these little insignificant children I surely would've passed by if I hadn't absentmindedly run over their stuffed moogle…

Why do I feel like… things are slowly going to change…? And why… am I suddenly scared…?

… It was the beginning of an ending I didn't know existed…

I pressed harder into his back, causing another girlish yelp and a fit of whines.

'Suck it up and deal with it, you little pansy…'


	2. The Golden Opportunity

Next chapter of _I'll Be Good_ is up, and we are finally introduced to some canon characters and a little action! As you can guess from the first chapter, yes the main character is mute. And yes, there is an explanation for it, which will be explained later. Making a mute character is a first for me, and that's only because I had trouble first trying to visualize her voice. I couldn't picture it, so I thought making her mute would be interesting! Turned out pretty fun actually :P By the time I could finally picture her with voice, it was already established soooo... I like it this way!

Anyhow, this chapter had me a little excited when I wrote it, so I do hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

I do not own Final Fantasy VII.

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"Sorry, but this is all I can pay you," the burly, potbellied excuse of human male stood in an awkward slouch, scratching the underside of his chin and dropping white flecks of dandruff from his stubble. I doubt there was a sliver of an honest apology behind his words the way he carelessly dropped pocket change into my open hand, "And this is a pretty generous amount if you ask me. A lot of this stuff is just beat up scrap metal."

'No shit, genius!' I growled inwardly, giving him a harsh scowl as workmen in dirtied shirts and overalls began hauling away my precious supply of Midgar metal from the wagon parked just outside, 'This is my biggest haul yet! I know this stuff is worth more than this pathetic amount of gil!'

"Hey now," the dandruff riddled porker glared harshly, ceasing his scratching in favor of shoving his hands into his dirtied work pants, "You bring me something a little more valuable, you'll get a little more. Bring me shit like this and you're gonna get shit pay, you got that?"

'Screw you,' I thought bitterly, giving the delightful man a gesture of my gratitude before turning away in a huff, ignoring the cherry faced expression growling feral curses and the occasional cat calls that drifted by as I walked away with my wagon in tow. It was nearly nightfall when I left my last delivery site, and as one could guess, it wasn't a very lucrative transaction. It was almost two years since everyone hopped on the scrap metal bandwagon, scavenging leftover parts from the hollow ribs of Midgar and selling them to shops and rising businesses in Edge to make quick money. The orphans who ran the streets often found easy money to provide for themselves while the adults focused on getting shelter and their lives rebuilt. However, now that Edge was starting to become a bustling city able to stand on its own, there wasn't much use in gathering parts anymore. I couldn't blame the man for the short payment, but that didn't pull me out of this shithole any faster…

'And gathering is our only source of income…,' I thought worriedly, taking a small rest in an empty alley as the wagon slowly came to a stop at my side, 'It's all we have left. If I keep getting chump change like this, we're sunk…'

I pulled my knees up to my chest and hugged them close, letting the chilly tendrils of evening air wrap around my small frame and toy with loose strands of hair that escaped my wool cap. The streets were slowly thinning out as citizens worked their way back into their homes and away from the dark and dangerous shadows that lurked on every corner. Kids ran to the safety of their parent's arms while others who were left orphaned sought refuge under any roof they could. Living in Edge felt no different than living under the plate these days. The cold hard ground, the empty stares, the constant fight for food, warmth and money, it was all the same. The only difference was that we had more money jingling in our pockets…

'No!' I shook my head and glared harshly at the adjacent wall, hands squeezing into tight fists, 'I promised myself I'd forget about that! I promised Eli I wouldn't do that anymore…!' However, against the thoughts that plagued my mind, I calmed and sunk into mild despair. At least when I had that job, we survived. We could manage ourselves well enough and the streets were no problem for us then. We survived without our parents, without anybody to slow us down and tell us 'no'. Those were the days I missed the most. Running from sector to sector, picking scraps of food from dumpsters and friendly shop owners who gave a damn, living like each day that approached could lead to a whole new adventure, it was almost as if a sense of peace hovered over us no matter the situation.

But now things were different. There were no food scraps to dig for, no friendly shopkeepers willing to spare a slice of bread, and Eli's days are so limited. He can barely move without worsening his geostigma and he's always in constant pain. He's asked me time and time again to reconsider him getting a job somewhere around Edge, but each time I flat out refused. I couldn't let him work in his condition, it would only speed up the process. And as much as I wanted to go back to my old job for the sake of getting more gil per hour, I highly doubted the occupation was even sought out anymore.

'Man, I'm screwed…,' I thought darkly, tossing my head back against the hard concrete wall I leaned upon with a silent groan, 'What the hell am I supposed to do for money…? The rent is almost due, and when the landlord sees that dent, he'll jack up the price! I'm seriously fucked…'

It wasn't until I took a break from wallowing in self-pity that I noticed the pitter patter of hurried footsteps approaching me from down the alley. I figured I'd let the children pass on and continue to flounder some more before getting home in the next few minutes. That would've been the plan, if they hadn't stop in front of me and I hadn't recognized them from a few hours earlier.

"M-Miss Pepper…? What are you doing on the ground?" Kenji was the first to speak up, tilting his head and eyeing me curiously with his moogle doll clutched tightly in his grip. His previous coughing fit still lingered in the scratchiness of his voice, but otherwise he looked a lot better than before.

Pigtails swung as Meri looked at the empty wagon parked at my side, "What happened to all your stuff? Did you sell it all?'

I nodded, eyes closed and head tilted away from sight.

"That means you got money, right?" Kenji pondered, brightening his shy persona.

Again, I nodded. 'Please don't ask- '

"How much?"

'Damn it!" I pouted pathetically before holding out the worthless amount of gil received earlier.

Meri and Kenji looked down at the litter of coins and seemed to deflate as much as I had done minutes before. "That's not a lot, is it…?"

Funny thing was, that wasn't even a question. These kids were perceptive enough to catch the difference between earning a shit load of money and a shit load of nothing. Part of me was impressed, but the more dominating of me sunk even more into misery. Even children knew how crappy my situation was.

Meri put her hands on her hips and gave a patronizing glare. "Why can't you just get a job like all the other grown-ups?"

'Oh, I don't know. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I can't walk up and _ask_ for the closest job application?' I gave them a deadpan look and pointed to my throat, hoping to get my message across. To be frank, I've never worked an honest living and would probably end up breaking a plate or something if I did. That, and I was just too stubborn to give up my current line of work, so having no voice was just a convenient excuse, one that the kids easily believed by the look of understanding in their big brown eyes.

"Oh… you can't talk," Kenji mumbled in thought, tipping his head into his doll's soft plush, "But…"

'But nothing kid,' I thought with a soft sigh, getting to my feet and pocketing the gil into my purse, 'There's not much I can do about the situation, so I might as well go home. At least there I can sulk in a negative three-star duplex apartment on the spring stabbing comfort of an old twin mattress.' I turned to give the little children a small wave goodbye before grabbing my wagon, prepared to leave the dark alley and walk the lonely path back home. Just as I was about to step into the street lights, the skirts of my dress suddenly pulled in the opposite direction, yanking me back and dragging me further down.

"Follow us!" Meri cried as Kenji pulled on me harshly, half dragging my body through a maze of alleys and sharp turns. I held fast to the handle of my wagon as the wheels clattered and banged across the hard concrete road like a symphony of pots and pans, and surely the sounds would've woken up the entire street we ran down if I didn't see at least half the male population up and standing just outside a lit-up building down the road.

We stopped (well they did. I nearly toppled over their small frames as I strained to keep up with them) and stood little ways from all the talking and peaceful excitement. The words "7th Heaven", shone in bright colorful lettering; hard to see in the darkness but readable nonetheless. Judging from the lax posture of the people coming in and out of the building frequently, I could safely assume this was a bar. I heard of this place a long time ago from a shopkeeper in sector 6, but I let it fly over me when I heard the words "too young" escape the old man's mouth. I suppose the owner must've moved it here after all hell broke loose.

'But why would a couple of kids take me to an open bar? Just how do they even know this place?' I looked down at the innocent heads of the children and displayed my question full force.

"We see lots of grown-ups coming in and out of here all the time," Well that answers one question. Meri spoke and pointed to a particular group of people with peaceful smiles on their faces, "And look! They always come out happy!"

'No shit.'

"Maybe you can get a job here," Kenji said with an innocent smile. Do these kids even know what this place is? … Scratch that. _Do they know what time it is!?_ The adult in me screamed.

I gave them a raised brow and a look of disbelief.

"You'll get a lot more money this way, and maybe you'll be happier too," Meri said, obviously ignoring my discomfort, "Don't you and Mr. Eli need it?"

'… These runts are too smart for their own good…' I sighed visibly and nodded, feeling even lower than ever being patronized by a couple of runts. It was true, I did need the gil to keep the roof over our heads and food in our stomachs. But such a place brought back too much familiarity to a life formerly drowned in sin and greed, a life I had left long ago in the ruins of Midgar, a life I promised Eli I would never live again. The smells of hard liquor, the resonances of obnoxious laughter and boisterous men shaking the foundation with their mighty guffaws as they inhaled their booze. The sounds were unusual during such a time when death and loathing were common place. Everyone on edge, ready for the next blow to strike them in their sleep as they look up at the skies with countenance filled with grief and sorrowful dread. I couldn't imagine the threads on which these patrons walked on, thin as spider's silk and fragile as fresh cotton as they teeter on the last shred of their lives. Their hopes. Their fears. Their sanity all supported by each drop of alcohol that slipped past their lips and burned pleasurably down their throats.

I've seen far too much of those threads during my time in the slums. So much so, I've become immune to blushing faces and the drunken advances of inebriated men as they sought out a patsy to vent their frustrations upon, willing or not. A sweet guiltless face, a body that strikes a beautiful silhouette as they kneel before them in submission, eyes soulless but their warped minds skew their faces into that of a deep yearning to give them everything they so desired…

I shook my head clear and sighed. 'The entire environment in itself is asking for it and I swore up down, and sideways that I'd keep myself at least one hundred feet away from this sort of crowd,' I thought wearily with a hint of fear slowly rising in my gut. I would be lying if I said I wasn't the least bit terrified right now. My hands trembled and the mouth dried out, the excess fluids finding escape through my palms as I clenched them tightly together. I could barely swallow my throat was so sparse, and the knots in my stomach were excruciating. But gazing back into the little one's hopeful eyes, a hope for my wellbeing I noted with slight surprise, I felt my resolve wane and fall. If nothing, these children hoped I would give them a share of my earnings to use for themselves. It wouldn't surprise me, and it wouldn't again if I gave into their deceitful little mugs and spared my coins.

'Fine… I'll do it,' I gave a nod, eliciting bright smiles from the young one's as I handed the oldest the handle of my wagon, 'Just take this back to the house and tell Eli I'll be out for a little while longer.' I pointed down the backstreets that led to the house and they quickly understood the message, nodding and wishing me luck as they ran with the wagon rattling loudly behind them. I waved goodbye and took a deep breath, facing the listless crowd with a determined look upon my brow.

'Well then…,' I thought, clenching my fists as I walked towards the door. I took a moment to catch myself before quickly grabbing a hold of the handle.

….

"Oh, I'm sorry but I think we're fine with everything we have right now."

'Fuck my life…,' I pouted and slammed my head on the polished counter, letting my despondency seep into the air as the bartender, Tifa I learned, fretted over me and my possible concussion.

It was only a couple of hours since I entered 7th Heaven, and during those hours I spent sitting in the darkest corner trying to avoid being seen by the many patrons that filtered in and out of the doors. This was the liveliest place I've ever been in since settling in Edge, and while I noticed the number of men waltzing about in a drunken stupor, not once did I feel the need to run out for cover. Tifa was a lovely woman, a lot better than other bartenders I've had the unfortunate pleasure of running into when I was in Midgar. She was pretty too, very much so with her hourglass figure and unblemished skin. She held herself with a grace I could only wish for, a genuine smile that seemed to calm my rattled nerves and further mystify me by the sheer magnitude of its contrasting sweetness and coy curl. Though I had to admit her… ahem… chest size was a bit much. I had to refrain from staring too long, but she was a modest dresser, something I've come to respect. All black clothing, a black tank with black shorts, matching sneakers and a long overskirt, she had good fashion sense despite her monochrome coloring. Her nature was motherly, though I carefully observed the fierceness in her eyes, the will of a fighter rested within her just waiting to come out at any time. During my observations, I wondered what my eyes looked like to her.

Empty…

Soulless…

It wasn't until most of her clientele left the place scarce that Tifa saw me in the far corner of the room and invited me to sit by the bar. She had asked me several questions, my name, age, things that would otherwise be posted on an ID card, but when I pointed out my lack of speech via pointing to my throat, her eyes widened in surprise. I was prepared to bolt, afraid she might've suspected I had geostigma and was ready to throw me out. But as she dove underneath the counter and pulled out a pen and paper, I slowly relaxed. Tifa only smiled and told me to write down my words. I wondered if she minded the quiet, but the curiosity must've shone on my face because she let out a soft laugh and shortly responded, "Don't worry about it, I'm fine. I've got a couple friends who are just as quiet."

Huh…

Until the rest of the bar flies left for the night, Tifa and I exchanged a few words as she worked. She was about my age or so, possibly older I observed, was born and raised in Nibelheim (far off, I realized with wide eyes), and started a bar in Midgar in sector seven when the place was destroyed several years back. I could've argued that she could've rebuilt in Nibelheim, driven far away from this cold and shadow of Midgar, but judging from the dark and sullen look in her eyes, I knew it was a subject she'd rather avoid than dive deeper into. She didn't say much after that, only spoke of a friend who lived with her, but was constantly away doing who knows what, and two children with whom they looked after. Said children were upstairs sleeping while she stayed downstairs to clean up.

Which brings me to my current predicament, nursing my forehead with a cold washcloth while Tifa looked on with an apologetic smile.

"You've got a thick skull," she laughed despite the pathetic glare I shot her, "Sorry, sorry. It's just the way you let your head slip…!" Tifa kneeled over the counter and covered her mouth, her shoulder's shaking.

'I hope you choke…,' I glared weakly and sighed, rubbing my wound to ease the ache as she slowly calmed.

"S-Sorry about that," she stammered through and sighed softly with a sad smile, "But as much as I want to, I don't really have the money to pay you for work. At least not for a while."

I nodded sluggishly, dejection festering in my chest as I wrote out one last desperate plead. _"Please, is there anything I can do…?"_

Tifa looked over the chicken scratch and gave me a gentle smile, "Well, I could offer you a place to stay until you can get on your feet. You can bus tables for your rent if you want to do that."

The offer was generous. A place to sleep, decent work, and who knows? Maybe I'll even get paid once Tifa gets better income, which shouldn't be too hard considering how jumping the place was earlier that evening. However, I could hear the uncertainty in her tone. She was unsure. Letting a stranger into her home, eating her food with two- possibly three- other mouths to feed. It could prove rather difficult to manage. I could understand her hesitation, what with two young children living upstairs. To her eyes, my desperate scribbles and hopeful demeanor could be a front, and the risk of inviting a total stranger into her home with kids in the house weighed heavily on her mind, if the tenseness of her shoulders the slight furrow in her brow was anything to go by. Her mistrust was understandable.

'I can't take it… as much as I want to, I can't…," I wrote down as such and reluctantly showed Tifa the pad with a forlorn frown.

"Why's that?" she pondered with an inquisitive look, concern clear in her eyes as she shoved the notepad across the counter. Though there was a touch of relief on her countenance, the refusal appeared to be a revelation of my innocence. I waited a few moments, thinking over the right words to say and juggling over possibilities until Tifa spoke out with concern.

"If it's because of your geostigma," she said carefully as though not wanting to offend or send me running away with my tail between my legs, "then you should know I don't mind it. One of the kids… he has it too."

'So, she's seen it firsthand…,' my respect for her grew even more so, 'She's so willing to shoulder anyone else's problems… despite her own troubles…'

 _"I don't have geostigma,"_ I showed her with a weak smile upon my lips as she read the words with soft nods, _"This bandage is to cover an unfortunate accident. I'm not infected, but… someone I love does have it. And that's why I can't take up your offer. He's already in so much pain, I can't just up and move him. It'll only agitate it. And I can't ask you to shoulder my responsibilities. You already have two mouths to feed, three if you count the other person you spoke of. The children you take care of should come first. Taking on two more would give you more trouble in the long run… I'm sorry to have wasted your time…"_

"I see…," Tifa muttered, worry creasing her brow as she weighed her wine-colored gaze onto my downtrodden shoulders, "Is it… really that bad…?"

I slowly nodded and bit my lip as tears swelled in my eyes, worse case scenarios flooding my mind. Images of Eli's frail form from this morning, the pain in his eyes as he tried lifting himself back on his feet, the tough grit in his teeth as his back seized from the extra effort he put into his legs, it was all coming back in waves. I couldn't take it. I couldn't stand to see him like that, so weak and vulnerable. It was so horrid and twisted my heart into knots, I didn't want to leave him behind to suffer. And yet he pushed. He pushed with all his might and smiled that stupid, ignorant grin of his and told me to go. To get out and "bring home to the bacon! I'm starved!" How could he say that to me? How could he push me away like that when I can see the truth in his grimace?

'I'm not blind, you fool…,' I thought, clenching my fists in frustration as my head dropped into my open hands, 'I can see it in your eyes, in your smile, you're in constant pain… how can you tell me to leave like that every goddamn day when I know you're in pain…!? Don't you see I have to take care of you!? I have to stay by your side! To make sure you're okay, that you don't try anything stupid! I want to take care of you, I must! Every single day, I want to be there for you so you can get well! If I don't then…! Then you'll…"

Just as a sob threatened to break through the woven fence of dressings laced around my throat, a gentle hand caressed my shoulder. "Hey…, it'll be okay…" An odd look crossed my face, and I looked up tearfully towards the young woman who regarded me with such understanding, such support and endearment more than I've ever seen in a stranger's eyes. It frightened me how strong her stare was, how warm it felt to have her hand there on my shoulder as though it were a crutch.

"Don't cry," she smiled warmly and let out a gentle laugh as a tear managed to crawl stealthily down my cheek. With quick fingers, she wiped it away before I could shudder away from her touch, "Guess it was too late to ask that, right?"

I stared at her for a long while, her face filled with mirth and yet her expression stood fortified and caring. It was then that I saw it. Only the briefest flicker in her eyes, but I caught it. The war-torn scars buried deep within her, the reserve built only from a long and pervasive battle. The grief, the sadness, the relief in her eyes now that her life had become somewhat close to normalcy, it was all there for the world to see for the smallest second. I understood now, how closely she had come from the edge. She had come close to tipping over the ledge, and yet she fought. For what, I couldn't say for certain, but… in my heart I felt it… she had suffered… and there she stands, a stone pillar battle worn but just as resilient as before the first shot.

'That shade of pink…,' I thought to myself briefly as the bright pastel stood out amongst the rivers of black fabric. A small ribbon, tied around her arm like a badge of honor… why does that color look so familiar…?

Before I could ponder this further, my eyes glanced over the clock in the corner and my legs carefully slipped off the stool. 'It's getting late… Eli is going to get worried.' I set the notepad down on the bar and gently brushed Tifa's hand off my shoulder, passing her a grateful look before turning to the door. She would've protested more, offered me food and medicine for my loved one, but seeing the resolve in my stance, the bar maid stopped short. There wasn't any more she could offer, I wasn't going to take any of it. I wasn't going to be someone's burden. And as kind as she was, I knew Tifa had too much on her hands, despite her attempts to be generous. Kindness, I believed and I'm bold to assume Tifa thought so as well, was a gift given only if it was worth giving.

I stepped out into the chill and shut the door behind me, closing off what little light and warmth that leaked into the streets, shrouding myself comfortably under a blanket of darkness as I headed further down the road towards the house. I slipped my arms into my sleeves and held them to my chest, shivering slightly from the cold. I was used to bundling up before leaving the safety of whatever served as my "home" for the night. Even in the sweltering heat of summer, I would always find myself swathing myself in loose conservative clothing to keep off an impending frost. A compulsive habit I couldn't shake, even after leaving the slums, but it brought a sense of comfort as I traversed through the gloom.

The rattle of garbage cans, the scurrying of claws, the hollowed moans that ricocheted off the walls, whether it was wind or something akin to the paranormal I hadn't a clue; I jumped at every little noise and closed myself in further towards the shadows. As many have said before, 'I'm not afraid of the dark. I'm afraid of what lurks within.' Well, I can say with upmost certainly that the shadows are something to be feared. For the things that lurked within them can be dealt with. They were tangible. Touchable. You can see it at the very least and following this belief, it can be taken care of. You can run from them, fight back, and such fears can be defeated or delayed. But you can't run from the dark. The shadows of the night can't be touched and even with the moon's luminescent glow, the darkness only grows larger. Darkness can't be touched. Nights prompt dangerous behaviors that only daylight's saving grace can vanquish, and so long as the dark reins sovereign you have no choice to obey and take shelter from the ghostly beacon hanging above the clouds. For that very signal only serves as a warning to others, leading anyone dense enough to walk its path like a sheep to the slaughter.

I had always obeyed its law and dictation to the letter, so it came as a terrifying surprise when it finally turned against me.

'Just keep walking…,' I thought calmly as I carried further into the narrow side street that which led back home, speeding up as the heavy thumping of footsteps approached from behind. At first I believed it to be a coincidence. It wasn't that unusual for someone to be wandering in the middle of the night in search of whatever caught their fancy. Sometimes even spotting a few people strolling through the night for no significant purpose but to wander, as I've been caught doing the same once or twice. But these steps were hurried, heavy footfalls hitting concrete and shattering the once ubiquitous silence as they advanced now with purpose.

Then a fierce guttural shout broke out, "Hey!"

Heart beating strongly as it fought to take in more precious oxygen, I ran as fast as I could. Twisting and turning through a maze of buildings and nearly stumbling over my boots as the man behind me grew angrier and more frustrated; but he was gaining speed despite his ire, far more than I could expend. My lungs were burning as hotly as my body began to wobble from fatigue. I leaped into an adjacent alley and shot back against the wall, eyes ruefully glaring up at the heavens and praying with every fiber of my being that I was as far from the house as humanly possible. If I were to get caught, I would rather the accoster not know where I lived.

Silence.

The pounding in my chest, the desperate struggle for air as if I were drowning from the sheer fear of being captured as I listened out for whatever being decided to chase me, it was all far too familiar. Dreadfully so as I sought leverage against the heavy stone pressed into my back as my body gave out from the stress. Being hunted was something I grew used to in Midgar, but since the move, I never believed I'd go through the same motions yet again, ever more so now that I knew nothing of my predator. That made the experience even more terrifying. The urge to meld into the brick and become one with the structure was irresistible yet unattainable. I held my breath, and pressed a hand to my chest as if the action would coerce it into silence, the irregular drumming an annoying chorus amongst the quietly concealed shadows.

Nothing came. The corridors were empty. A breeze licked at my heels. Everything continued in the reverent and gripping apprehension of worse things to come as citizens sought shelter in their homes and lay swaddled in their beds; restless. The familiarity of it put my fears at ease and a breath rebelliously slipped through my lips. A sigh unwound the coil in my stomach as the mere relief left me lax and nearly fall to the ground from the sudden onset of contentment.

I made to leave as quickly as I could. The longer I stayed out, the more Eli would worry and I couldn't have him go out searching for me.

"Don't move…," I froze. A voice growled deeply into my ear, rough and grating and hampered with exhaustion as a hand slowly clamped over my mouth and arms constricted my arms, pulling me deeper down the alley and against someone's torso, "If you value your life, you little harlot…"

It was then that I felt it. The sharp prodding of a blade against my wounded throat halted any attempts at escape. My eyes widened in fear. I stood statuesque, the stillness cracked by the sudden onset of violent tremors as my captor chuckled in some sadistic elation having caught his prey.

"Feel familiar? I bet it does. I almost didn't recognize you… but who could ever forget the taste of rat…," the knife dug deeper, prompting a soft whimper to slip into the goon's dirtied hands and a bark of laughter, his grip tightening, "I still remember that day… the way you struggled, the way this knife," another jab, "Sliced through that delicate neck of yours like butter. The way you screamed…," He chortled sinisterly. It was gurgling and sounded of aged metal sloshing through mud, "You kept at it, even when all that came out of your gullet was blood! That was my favorite part. Watching you choke on your own blood... it was something else! But now seeing you here… it pisses me off…"

I cowered beneath the blade as it cut through gauze and contacted skin, tears brimming in my eyes. The aggressor continued with torturously slow movements, his voice becoming dangerous and angered with undesired memories of a past left in ruin. "We should've cut out your throat. That would've done the trick. But no… the Don wanted one last go at his favorite Bee. It was his kindness that kept you alive. It was his kindness that kept you off the streets, wasn't it? He was kind, a little too kind to see the rat-faced bitch was laying under his nose… I should've killed you…or better yet, I should've fed you to the dogs…

"You don't deserve to live. You never did," the pitiless man laughed darkly, "And I'm not the only one who agrees... You should've kept your mouth and your legs open like a good little girl, but now…," his breath slithered against my ear and brushed forebodingly past my cheek, the stale scent of booze like a match burning into skin and assaulting my nostrils worse than the rusted blade currently caressing my throat, "You'll pay up, bitch…"

'N-No… this can't be happening… this just can't be happening! I left that all behind! I left it all!' Tears pooled and fell in thick salty rivers, 'Why won't it leave me alone? Make it stop… please, dear Minerva, make it stop! Leave me alone!' It was then I began to fight the chains that bound me, kicking my legs and shaking hysterically for freedom. Sheer panic was all I felt in that moment. The switchblade far from my mind, the gangster's threats and angry shouts dull to my ears as though I were drowning, gasping for air. I felt nothing but darkness creeping around my chest and clutching my heart in a crushing grip. The idea of going back to that life brought nothing but horror. Constantly fighting, constantly running, always buried under the subservient wishes of others, I can't take it, and I couldn't take it then. I couldn't go back to that life. All the bloodshed, all the pain and terror I inadvertently instilled into everyone around me, I can't go back. I didn't remember this man, his face, his voice, his name, I knew nothing. But I knew the stench of the slums when I smelled it.

What a hideously intoxicating scent.

My fighting grew laboriously futile, the fuel to my fears ever so slowly drying out as exhaustion grew. 'Please… just let me go… I don't care what you're planning to do but please… I need to get back… I have to get back… Eli…'

"Atta girl…," the brute contented with a grin in his voice, his arms never giving away even as my body lay slack from overuse, "Nice and easy. You're lucky. As much as I'd love to see your blood all over the pavement, the boys and I agreed you're more useful alive than dead. I've been watchin' you. Seen you around here and around Midgar, pickin' up scrap and sellin' them off. Just like you use to. Heard you got a brother too. You never told us that before, have you?"

'No…' My blood went cold.

"Too bad what's happenin' to him. That bug going around ain't no joke, it isn't. And look around," he lifted his arm with the knife and waved it across my vision, gesturing lazily to the rough buildings and scaffoldings above, "Edge ain't the little piece of shit it use to be. All grown up, it don't need help growing no more. That little wagon of scrap you had this morning ain't worth as much as it used to," the red hilt switchblade, tainted with faux sympathy caressed my face and slowly slid down my neck, the tip pressing threateningly into a bare patch of skin underneath the folds of tape, "Time's is tough. No one's gonna buy your product if they already have more than enough. And what with your dear little brother sick… well, you ain't got much longer to pick up the slack.

"But, the boys and I, bein' generous and all, we're gonna help ya. See now, we've got a plan," the man lazed his grip in exchange for slinging his arm around my shoulders, as though in comradery, and pulling me close, my cheek nearly grazing his stubble, "All of this you see here. It just ain't for us. And with the Shin Ra hangin' around like they own the place? That just makes it even worse. And I know you agree," he gave me a toothy sneer and I looked away, eyes to the ground as my heart throbbed in a painfully nostalgic way at the name, "So here's what we've been thinkin'. All of this? It's gonna be ours. We're gonna take all of this and make it our own, in honor of the big man himself! Startin' with that statue and endin' with us on top. Now, here's where you come in…"

Suddenly the glint of a blade clouds my vision and shutter rolls down my spine, the young woman's reflection looking weary and frightened, "Now we've got the plan and everythin', but you gotta contribute too. We need weapons. Lots of 'em, a whole army's worth at best. If we're goin' against those Shin Ra dogs, we gotta be prepared, and we know you can do it. You're the only one with the know how to build guns and shit with the crap metal you collect around here. So, here's the deal. We'll leave you alive, maybe even… ah, what's the word… pardon! That's it! Pardon ya for all the shit you put us through. But only if you give us the weapons we need. We can even offer you gil and some food stuff we… eheh… earn, to sweeten the deal."

He pulls away slowly and grabs hold of my hair, pulling the tresses down sharply enough to expose my neck to the jagged blade sitting impatiently against the gauze, "But let's make a couple things clear. You're ours now. We own your sorry little hide and we can do whatever it is we damn well please with you. We'll slice through that pretty little neck of yours like we should've a long time ago if even one word about this leaves. And if a whiff of this is sniffed up by the Shin Ra," a dark rumble of amusement, deep and foreboding like thunder, escaped him as a sneer warped his features to monstrous proportions, "Well… he's gonna die anyway…"

With a rough shove, my neck grazes the sharp-edge and I collapse to my knees, strands of sharp ebony falling callously from his fingers. I couldn't see clearly through the puddles of briny tears in my eyes as blood trickles through the gauze and drips in deep crimson puddles. I look up, the face of my captor revealed in the shallow bright white of moonlight. Despite his sloppy way of speaking, his hair appeared well groomed. Cut short and brushed, a buzz cut from the looks of it, and yet the rest of him seemed shoddily put together. Black stubble speckled his chin and cheeks, his skin red and coated in sweat from the previous run through the alleys. He dawned a dirtied wife-beater and black cargo pants sagging with items I dare not guess lay within, and with a rough kick in the gut with his muddied combat boots, I rolled further into the backstreets, the agony taking much needed breath from my lungs.

'N-no… oh gods no… Eli!' I held with a sinking feeling in my gut as I seized my stomach and regarded the brute with a mixture of terror and desperation. He resumed his cold and pitiless countenance, brows narrowed and his lips pinched up at the ends as he watches me writhe before his eyes.

"I don't expect an answer. I expect results, you got that?" he growls, twirling the switchblade slick with blood and shoving it into its holster at his hip, "Otherwise, we'll finish what we started and then some. I'll be back to collect the prototypes and they'd better be worth the trouble keepin' ya breathin'."

He turns to leave with a casual and sloppy hop in his step.

Breathing now seemed uncertain, the rigid silence taking over once again, and I took tentative steps further through the haunting corridors to return to the ramshackle apartment I called "home". My feet dragged against the cold pavement in a futile attempt to keep quiet. There was a bruise forming on my stomach, and the bleeding around my neck had clotted long ago. For that, I was thankful as I approached the rugged stoop that lead up to the front door. Such an injury would be hard to excuse and I was eager to return to the comforting sounds of stubborn jovial adolescence. The wagon was parked out front, barren of promises and upon closer inspection, the latch on door was broken, hanging desperately from a single screw as its companions lay in a disorganized heap on the steps.

Mind racing with scenarios of the horrifyingly disturbing, I crushed through the creaky slab of wood and- though my voice had failed me- cried out into the living room with all the energy I could muster at that point, hoping that some ghost of a soprano would drift into the seemingly empty apartment and awaken those inside. A weak sputter resembling that of a stalled car engine was my only reward.

I stood there, frantically searching through the mounted ornaments and scattered clothing left behind from this morning's meal, hanging onto what shred of faith I had left. The familiarity of the scene put me at ease, but only somewhat as the silence grew. With every second of quiet, my heart dropped further.

The stillness.

The darkness.

All of it blanketed by the omnipresent foreboding heavy in the air. It was when I feared the worst and came close to falling to my knees in despair that a light invaded the monotonous blacks and grays of furniture.

"Pepper…?" a disheveled angel haloed in black tresses stepped out of the brightness, the yellow fluorescent light fading against the hallway's gray exterior. His clothes were off white and wrinkled with sleep, and his hair appeared disarrayed from his dreams. Eli gave a peculiar look, his eyes still glazed in sleep and he held a bat tightly in his grip as if he would spring at moment. To my astonishment and even greater relief, two more heads popped into the hall, sweet cherubic faces drowsy yet alert as they clung to each other, uncertain and fearful.

'They're safe… They're all okay…'

"Pepper, what the hell's with all the noise?" a yawn interrupts his heated scolding and he rubs his eyes, dropping his weapon against the wall. The slur of the slums is heavy in his voice, "You scared the shit outta us…"

'They're okay…'

"You're later than usual… did you get lost or somethin'? That's not like you."

'They're all okay…'

"The kiddies here brought the wagon back, so I figured it was okay for 'em to stay the night. The latch is broke though, so we'll have to fix that in the mornin'. Finally rusted on me, the piece of crap…"

'They're all…'

"Pepper? Pepper!?" Within seconds Eli is wide awake and at my side, holding me up as everything around me seemed to topple in a sodden pile of nerves. I clung to him, arms thrown desperately over his shoulders and nose buried into his t-shirt as silent sobs dampened the fabric. For a few minutes, he attempted to gauge an answer through the snot riddled weeping, but eventually settled on letting me cry while holding me close, cooing words of comfort as though I were a mere toddler. The children surrounded us, worried but content with watching. One, I didn't know which, had even started petting me. The sting from my abused scalp released further tears, the memory heavy in my mind and the relief intensifying.

Only one thought echoed through the sadness, recollections of a reminiscent desolation and hopelessness instinctively reaching out for a specter of trust I knew would not come to me.

My voice would not allow it.

And he would not show.

Yet in my mind, I begged still. To a hollowed shell, a mere ghost of my past that was once so comforting and tangible in their convictions, in an act of desperation I called.

'Help me… If you're there… if you can hear me, help me… help me… please…'

I wept through the night.


	3. The Stranger

I am soooo sorry for the late update! Projects and stuff got backed up and I was too tired to publish the next installment (forgive me...! T^T) But here it is, the next chapter of I'll Be Good! It might be a little rough since I haven't had time to scan through it, but I'll do that once things settle down ^^ do enjoy!

I do not own Final Fantasy VII.

* * *

In the days that followed, I struggled to keep a brave face and an even tougher front. When the sun rose the next day, I awoke with my eyes sore and body encompassed in the thickest sheets that were normally reserved for Eli's frail form. It was disorienting how the dawn's radiance glided through the window and danced gracefully upon the metalwork and sculptures that hung haphazardly on each corner. It was soothing, and at the same time irritating how each spot of light blinded me at every turn. When I moved to sit up, a hiss escaped as pain erupted from my scalp, a deep ache pounding against my skull as I poked and prodded the area for blood. For a few moments, I wondered how I got back home from the bar and was briefly sick to my stomach, thinking I may have partook of the liquor Tifa had sold. However, as I gazed upon the scraped I had on my palms, an even more wretched thought crossed my mind as the memories of last night's assailant come flooding back. I quickly pushed aside the sheets and was immediately calmed at the sight before me.

Eli was safe. The children were snuggly tucked into his sides and sleeping peacefully on the futon that was pulled from the bedroom down the hall if the scuffs on the floor were anything to go by. An off red quilt lay over them, Eli's legs hanging out in the open to brave the small chill flirting with his toes while the children lay warm and cozy, the Moogle doll cuddled in Kenji's arms. While the view would've warmed my heart in another life, it only served to bring upon more grief knowing this was only temporary.

They found me.

I believed for long time that I saw the last of the Don's men years ago. I believed with every cell in my body that I was free of him and his influence the minute that blade was pulled. I was nothing but garbage to them by then. I should've meant nothing to them now. I was just a slut, a plaything for them to enjoy and a warm body to bed whenever his hunt for a wife grew scarce. The shame I felt as I lay there tangled in his sheets was overridden by the pay that would come soon after. The absolute disgust was masked by the delicious smelling food I would bring to my brother the following morning with a smile upon my face, proud I was feeding his young teenage appetite like a mother would their child. No matter how many times I scrubbed myself raw to rid myself of the slime and filth, it was always gil that brought me back to the whore house in Wall Market, my body ready and able even though my mind was far from okay.

As much a morbid thought as it was, that knife freed me from my imprisonment. He never wanted to see me again. His men constantly tailed me, mocked me as I took the walk of shame back to my little hut in sector 7 and spitting profanities that would make a sailor blush. But at the time, I didn't care. Even as Eli dressed my wound and fought tears trying to get me to utter just one simple word, I smiled. Teeth stained with blood, pain in my eyes, but it was a smile nonetheless. A real, genuine expression of happiness. I lost my voice, my job, and knew we didn't have much money to live for the next two days, but I felt so free. I saw a glimmer of the night sky for the first time in my life, the small flickers of light that pierced through the smog and fires that ravaged over the wreckage, and I felt freer than I had in my entire existence.

As suddenly as it came, everything was gone in a puff of smoke. A dream ephemeral, leaving fleeting reminders of its presences hardly tangible.

Eli and the children awoke then, rubbing the sleep from their eyes and stumbling out of the futon with a clumsiness only morning could bring, and I smiled softly at the sight of their confused expressions. Their innocence was so endearing, I couldn't let them find out what I was dealing with. I couldn't risk their safety, no matter how apparent it was becoming. Even as Eli questioned me that morning and every day since then, I refused to give him a straight answer, a fear deep within me preventing the words from spilling through my eyes or onto the paper Eli left on the table. The notepad remained on the countertop, untouched and purposely overlooked. I wanted to keep their lives as normal as possible. Give them as much as I possibly could without giving into terror or the exhaustion I felt taking its slow toll.

The landlord gave us the week to come up with the rest of the rent money, and Eli once again brought up looking for a job himself.

"My geostigma isn't so bad anymore, Peps! And besides, we really need the cash!" He had fought tooth and nail that evening when I got back from my own job search. I was silently mopping up black puss from him and the children with a wet rag, Meri already finished up and Kenji observing with infantile curiously from the futon beside us, clutching his Moogle tightly in his bandaged arms.

The wince and sharp hiss that slipped from his lips was enough for me to put my foot down on the matter. 'You're obviously not well enough for ANY kind of work, Eli. You can barely keep your back straight for more than two minutes at a time before slouching like a Neanderthal.'

"Th-This doesn't mean anything!" He read the doubt in my eyes and turned towards me with a look of desperation, "Come on, Pepper. Why can't you let me do this? You can't take all of this by yourself…"

"We're gonna be on the street again…" I jumped a bit, surprised at the sadness and resignation soaking Meri's usual friendly and abrupt tone. She looked between us, her expression cold but her eyes holding the quiver of a frightened child. "Aren't we? I knew it was too good to be true…" Kenji looked at me with sadness on his sleeves.

With how much both kids came over and stayed, this might as well have been their home. I had no doubt they were orphaned after seeing them so often with no parents in sight. On most nights, as I returned home from a failed job search, I'd find them trying to take shelter in alleys or construction sights. It didn't matter the danger so long as they had somewhere to rest, and it worried me so, more than it should've. I loathed the idea of more mouths to feed when I realized there was no getting rid of them, but their presence somehow relaxed the otherwise heavy lonesomeness shared between Eli and me.

Meri was a strong girl, this I deduced the day we crossed paths, and this had shown more in the past few days she's been with us. She became less defensive the longer she stayed under our roof, sometimes helping Eli with chores whenever the task grew daunting. The little girl stuck to her younger sibling like glue, and protected him with a ferocity a Nibel wolf would envy. If it was time to clean his stigma, she would be there watching, holding him to her for comfort and snapping if he winced in the slightest. Kenji was a near opposite. Unlike his older sister who'd sooner snap at someone who came to close like a threated predator, Kenji's timidity kept him quiet. His stigma was more severe than Meri's, and such he couldn't do chores like his elder housemates without overexerting himself. He'd spend some days simply playing with his doll, or doing some little games Eli would bring out or come up with. As the days wore on, he became warmer, a lot more talkative than his elder sibling and so much sweeter. So much so, I was tempted to dote on him like my own child. These children slowly integrated into my life so seamlessly, I couldn't recall how it happened or how I got on without hearing them inside the house.

Eli and I shared a look then, concern written in our eyes but our countenances determined. We wouldn't let that happen.

"Don't worry guys," Eli grinned at them, teeth and all to set them at ease, "Peps and I won't give up without a fight. After all, you just got here!"

Meri looked doubtful, looking between us for any signs of deception whilst her brother seemed to take our words at face value. His brown eyes filled with hope in an instant, and the tiniest of smiles lit up his face like a lantern in the darkness. This fueled me. There was a ray of hope within this child that I couldn't let be extinguished. Even if I held no hope of my own didn't mean I had liberty to quench someone else's.

"…Okay," the little girl sighed, head hung low so her ponytails swung over her shoulders. She lifted her head and looked between us curiously, "But how are you gonna get a job?"

That was a question I couldn't answer that day or the days that followed. I woke up four days before the deadline tired and on the brink of defeat. Four days of asking around town, leaving the streets of Edge to scavenge the ruins of Midgar and work on whatever weaponry I could get a hold of, only to return just before nightfall with a heavy satchel filled with leftover scraps and the urge to fall asleep on my feet eminent. The wagon was pointless now that there was no pay for collecting anymore. There was no reason for me to lung it around, but just as I considered selling it for extra gil, the children took it upon themselves to play with it in my stead. The loud rusty clanging as it ran speedily over the rough street outside further pulled me from my slumber, their laughter seeming louder and more obnoxious than usual.

As if trying to combat against the cheerful gales, Eli sat on the steps, hunched over with a hammer in hand and a screwdriver by his knees as he fiddled with the broken door hinge our landlord refused to fix. He spent the previous days gathering the necessary tools after arguing heatedly about the cause of the break. If there was one thing my brother hated with a passion, it's being blamed for something he didn't do. Even I attempted to make the man see reason but the old miser was sure the rats from the slums were the cause. Eli wasn't strong enough to lift a laundry basket, let alone break down a door, and the wear and tear (despite having been recently built) was obvious. Eli's annoyed grunts as he pounded away at the door's frame was proof of his indignation after losing the fight. His stubbornness was the only thing that prevented me from doing the job myself.

Once you had Eli going, there was no stopping him. It was something menial, so I wasn't too concerned with overworking himself.

I sat up, rubbing the crust of sleep from my eyes and moving towards the bathroom to continue my daily routine. Looking the mirror, I wasn't surprised to see dark circles framing my eyes and my hair askew. I spent much of my days working on weapons for Corneo's men in the skeleton of Midgar, fingers blistered and cracked with blood, and wandering through Edge later in the evening hoping to find work. After which I'd come home with the children bathed and rebandaged, and a couch sheeted and ready to collapse into a fitful slumber. Shaking my hair out, I stepped into the shower to prepare for the day.

Taking a few moments longer under the warm spray, I exited feeling fresher than I had in days and dressed in a plain t-shirt and beige pants, holding a blue baseball cap under my arms in favor of letting my black tresses air dry in the cool air.

"Lunch is on the table!" the ruffled brunette shouted from the front door as I passed the kitchen. There on the counter sat a brown paper bag with a smiley face crudely draw in permanent marker. I grinned despite myself. Little tokens like this brightened my otherwise dreary week. When Eli took notice of my long absences, he made a bag lunch for me to take every day with his less than stellar cooking skills. It wouldn't have made a difference if I had made it myself considering my own talent in the kitchen being subpar, but the effort he put into waking up before me and crafting the most elegant PB and J he can manage was heartfelt, and I made sure he knew I appreciated his efforts.

A soft gust of wind, warm and pleasant on skin, blew through the open door and freshened the air inside. After grabbing a bulky jacket, I ahead towards the entry way, kneeling to press a kiss onto my brother's sweaty brow as he worked.

He stopped in his frustrations to spare a lively grin. The loftiness of the weather must've been doing him some good. The sun shone on his skin, lighting his typical pallor tone a golden hue, and he appeared in far greater spirits despite our circumstances.

"Heading out?" I gave a swift nod at his question and jumped at the cacophony of children's laughter echoing through the normally quiet cul-de-sac. Head shooting up in curiosity, I was met with strange sight, Eli following my eyes and his smile growing gentle. "That wagon of yours is getting popular. Word gets around pretty quick."

It was true. Amongst the rusted rattle of wagon wheels scratching against hard concrete were the happy shouts of five children, Meri and Kenji amid their numbers as they led their fellow youths with the pale red wagon. Meri was more than happy to pull her younger brother along and the other children seem content with chasing them, occasionally switching turns to pull the wagon in a continuous loop around the street. There was a hesitant, yet joy-filled smile on Kenji's face. Toys, those of the larger sort, were a rarity in Edge as such pleasantries were abandoned for more practical endeavors. I had no doubt that the wagon's popularity spread through word of mouth alone, and as much as the squealing wheels were grating to the ears, I decided we could live with it. So long as it kept that smile upon Kenji's face…

"Not sure if these guys are orphans too or not," Eli filled in the silence between us, looking at the two young boys and the little girl with them, "But they've been coming by a lot more lately. Kinda nice having some background noise around this place."

I nodded in return, finding the sounds of their cheer rather soothing. I have always a soft spot for children…

Feeling eyes raking me over, I looked down and was met with Eli's concern. While it was obvious, there was a slight crease in his brow and the light in his eyes dimmed slightly. I hoped I wasn't as ragged looking as I thought I was. The teenager had enough to worry about, I couldn't put my troubles onto his shoulders. With this thought, I smiled down at him, caring and true with my intentions despite the underlying exhaustion in my bones. He didn't look like he believed me, but nodded anyway, passing a reluctant smile of his own.

"Good luck, Peps," he said with forced enthusiasm, "Be safe, alright? Don't worry about us here. I've got things covered. Baths, medicine, I've got the list on the fridge and Meri to scold my ass if I forget."

We shared a quiet laugh at that, imagining the pushy child bossing around a teenage boy three times her size. I patted his shoulder one last time and took the short three steps away from the house, mind already walking the path into the city. Meri and Kenji spotted me leaving and shouted their farewells, the kids around them debating whether to do so as well for a woman they had never met. I smiled weakly and waved in return before turning the corner onto one of the main roads.

Edge appeared to be taking the sunny weather well. Everyone appeared to be in brighter spirits, talking energetically with one another as they skittered through the streets in groups of two or more on their way to work at various shops and construction sites. More children slipped around me, taking advantage of the pleasant sunshine to run amuck with their companions. I myself have felt lighter than I have in days. I felt no urge to shove through the monotonous rat race of people, or shoot my usual glares at rude passersby, content with strolling easily and nonchalantly through the crowd as I went over job listings in my mind.

When the streets became familiar, I broke from my thoughts and turned towards the bar in mild curiosity. The 7th Heaven wasn't due to open until five, but I was positive the bar maid within was already hard at work. Since first meeting Tifa, I found myself stopping by on more than one occasion for absent conversation each evening I returned from Midgar. She was an easy woman to talk to and an even easier distraction from the tumultuous troubles that loomed ever closer as the week began its slow close.

At all hours, I felt Corneo's men hovering over me; with every turn of my head I'd spot one or two men grinning menacingly in my directing or glowering with discontent, weapons glinting in the sunlight. It disturbed me, frightened me. My life was under their scrutiny and in their hands to toy with. Their eyes burned holes into my skin and stretched the very thin line of my sanity, to the point of severe paranoia. Escaping into Tifa's welcoming smile and cheerful ambience was a godsend. Though she perpetually worries over the wellbeing of Eli and me, I do my best to quell the anxiety in my heart and brush off the dark circles painted around my eyes with a small smile and hand-written reassurance. Whether it does the job or not, the buxom barmaid continues to take my words at face value, and asks nothing further. Visiting her on my way back home, weary and downtrodden, has been a sliver of normalcy I've come to treasure more than I ever thought it would. I wouldn't call her a friend per say; there was still so much we had to learn from each other and far too many secrets on my end to become remotely close to another human being, let alone a young woman I had only met the week prior. However, I find the budding acquaintanceship soothing, enough to find myself drifting by the bar on my strolls to Midgar from time to time, and dropping in for a free water and chat.

Through the trickling stream of bodies, I instinctively looked towards the 7th Heaven, a habited I've come to develop in the hopes of spotting Tifa through the glass panes of her front windows. What I saw instead was both curious and oh so recognizable.

The little boy looked as if the weight of the world was bearing down upon his shoulders, back slumped and brown tresses obscuring his face, though I knew his focus was entirely fixated on the concrete below his feet. He looked well taken care of, clothes neat and tidy and matching the mixture of dull sepias, browns, blacks and whites of the citizens of edge with only a few scuffs from I could only blame on childish horseplay. Though it seemed the playful air and bright sunniness infecting those around him held no sway over the dark cloud hovering above his head. He sat on the stoop of the bar as if it were simply his place. I had never met any of the children Tifa had taken into her care, but my heart went out to the child regardless. He seemed so recluse, his name Denzel I recalled the night before in a brief but fulfilling conversation with the bartender, and without a single thought, I approached the child slowly.

Feeling both his personal space and thoughts intruded upon, Denzel's head shot up and he glared fierce. Such a look didn't suite him, that much I've gathered from the way he struggled to keep it in place. I withheld the urge to chuckle as it slowly weakened into a small pout, knowing it would only make him more apprehensive and upset, and reached into the crudely made lunch I held in my grip.

I kneeled before him and placed the apple juice box from my lunch by his side. Denzel's expression was one of surprise and suspicion, though I didn't stay long enough to see if he took the hand out as I wiped the condensation from my hands.

Dispersing the child from my mind, I continued across the connecting bridge between Edge and the skeletal ribs of Midgar, walking along the sliver of sidewalk and tipping my cap to avoid the smoke and carbon flowing from the vehicles that sped by. The journey was never a long one, shortcuts already deciphered and half the city itself leveled to the lower slums. The upper plates were crushed under the weight and might of Meteor, the heat from the falling rock melting away what gravity couldn't accomplish.

A dark chuckle slipped past my lips as I stood before the gravel covered roads leading towards Sector 5. It was poetic. Most who lived beneath the rotting plates held dreams of seeing the sunrise and set, of seeing the wide blue skies spoken of in urban myths. Rarely ever did anyone accomplish those wild fantasies, and many of those who couldn't escape the Catastrophe's wrath never will, their souls fully immersed in the Lifestream. Watching as the sun baked earth and clay I knew never witnessed a bright sunny morning since its creation was stupefying at first. Confusing and frightening all at once. I never knew much about the top plates, but as a child, I've always longed to reach the very top of the scaffoldings that divided us from the rest of society. The sky was never on my mind then, for I always believed it to be unattainable. To wishful a thought, a dream that only comes true through slumber. But reaching the next plate, the upper levels where starlets fluttered about graced in gems and food was plentiful, that was something possible. That was something I could obtain, for Eli and me both.

But Eli had bigger dreams than that. He saw something I couldn't see. He saw through the smog and his eyes caught something much more precious.

" _Hey…, do you remember that dream we made?"_

" _Dream…?"_

" _Yeah! When we were kids? That dream?"_

" _You can't make dreams, you dope," soft laughter, "It doesn't work that way."_

" _Well we made this one!" He grinned softly and turned his gazed towards the steel ridges that loomed over us, "That dream we made to see the outside world. To see what's really up there."_

 _I bowed my head in thought and shook my head warily, brows pinched in thought, "… Not really… It was so long ago…"_

" _We said we'd make it there… all the way to the top. I say we'll make it to the top and past the stars and then some. We said we'd make it there together. Through our dreams, we can make it there…" The smile he spared was one of genuine wonder and confidence, one I could I never forget._

" _Remember?"_

'I guess technically we made it…,' I sighed thoughtfully, heading further into Sector 5, "All that's left is through the stars and then some.'

There was a dilapidated building just a short walk away, one of few that survived the carnage years back and still holding strong. Slipping through the open archway, I marched up the stairs with caution, avoiding broken steps and loose two by fours by muscle memory alone. It was a trusty thing, once serving as a temporary shelter for Eli and me shortly after Meteorfall and still standing on its foundation, even if by the skin of its teeth. The ceiling had caved in and let the ever-glorious sunlight spill through the openings and bathing the walls in a soft luminous glow. Dust danced and fluttered through the bright rays, twirling about and pushed with the occasional gust of wind who wanted to joy in their frivolous ballroom excursions.

I held in a breath as I reached the top floor, eyes closed and body slowly approaching exhaustion. Dropping my lunch bag by the steps, I wandered over to the far corner and situated myself amongst the gathering of scrap metal and rusted weaponry I left the day prior. Guns, blades, empty magazines and shells, these were scattered about during organized chaos and waiting to be tampered with. Days filled with tinkering and modifying with what resources I could gather, my hands had a mind of their own; automatically sorting through the mess of rust and silver, and putting together what weapons I could within minutes.

Hours were spent like this. The process was mind numbing and mechanical, but always soothes my flaming tempers whenever they flared at the worst of times. My brother and I always questioned where we received our talent from; where we learned the difference between iron and steel, copper and bronze, we never knew. It was simply there, manifested from within our minds as though it were there since birth, an inert trait passed down to us from whatever bastard thought to conceive us. We've always had a child-like fascination with engineering and mechanics, but I myself seemed more drawn towards things that spit gunpowder. Ash and soot, my fingers were always dirtied in some shape or form back then. A part of me felt safe working with things that killed, that took lives away a simple slip of the trigger. It was comforting knowing that when it came down to facing one head on, I knew how to take it apart. To rip it from its handler and break it with ease. That I tore a million of its kind to pieces and scavenged through innards in twisted fascination.

I was stronger than it. Stronger than something.

Just as the sun fell low and delightful rays of yellow began to bleed a deeper crimson, the roaring of an engine shook the building on its foundation. I ducked from bits of dry wall and dust, shuffling over to the window to once again spare a glance at the black blur that often sped past unrelenting. It was becoming very common place, seeing the same black blob cruise through the wreckage, rutting a deep groove into the dirt each day it came and I found myself slightest bit curious. I never met the rider themselves nor dared to leave the safety of whatever apartment I caged myself in. I believed it once to be one of Corneo's men, stalking like animals starved of their prey. But then the evening would grow quiet, no loud slams of doors or terrible guffaws reverberating from the entrances and no cocking of guns. An eerie hush would fall over the scene and I reluctantly return to work as if never interrupted.

This day, the engine sounded gurgled, loud popping spitting into the air as the rider struggled to regain control. Standing carefully and brushing grease onto my jeans, I ventured downstairs and glanced further out the broken doorframe. A breathy curse (so it IS a male…) left the driver as he drifted to a stop, pulling over to the side and angling himself off the bike. He was dressed all in black, a long sleeve covering his left arm and coat tails reaching his heels, black boots, and a turtle neck unzipped at the collar. A black clothed hand shuffled through his wild spikes of hair, the only brightness amongst the funeral-like attire; yellow and luminescent against the reds of the setting sun, and a shake of his head foretold his frustration.

'It sounds like a spark-plug misfire…' I think to myself, shifting my gaze from the man to the beast that sat cooling in the shade. It was a motorcycle, that much I could gather, but everything about this mechanical monstrosity was a mystery. A custom-made beauty, long and sleek with tires big enough to crush a behemoth's skull with a couple blows and a single headlight cold and dim. The blonde fiddled with the engine one last time before shutting it off completely, shaking his head and kneeling to check what had his bike so out of sorts.

I watch for another few moments, simply gazing at the back of his head as if entranced. I wanted to get closer to the bike itself. It was crying, calling out for help when its master could provide none, and my heart ached at the sight. It bled profusely for the injured beast with a thorn stuck in its paw, and swiftly carried my legs up the staircase once more, only coming down when managing to procure a remedy for its ailment.

I exited the building with a churning stomach and racing heart. It was obvious from the build of the man, despite being a tad shorter than most men I met in the past, that he knew his way around a fight. Broad shouldered and well-muscled with a strong, sturdy gait. Only a few feet away and yet he turns to face me, as if he had already sensed my presence and chose to ignore it until now. I get a full view of his face and felt my cheeks reddening under his gaze. Only a fool couldn't see he was a handsome man, paler than I expected for someone who seemed to have made the roads his home and eyes that held a faint glow, making his blues bluer than even the sky's endless hue.

'A SOLDIER…,' I swallowed but kept my steps steady and secure. I heard stories of the elite fighting force once before; from the children of the slums and passerby here and there, but I had never seen one in person. Eli had once dreamed of becoming SOLDIER in another life as most boys do. The swordfights, the glory, the fame; it attracted him like flies to honey and I willing let him do so as he pleased. Dreams were meant to be just that; dreams, visions that plagued the mind and remained deep within the recesses of our hearts, never to surface. Meeting one now though, and so long after Shin Ra's collapse and slow rebuild, that wondrous fountain of imaginings my brother spoke so fondly was starting to drift into nightmarish territory.

The blonde stranger gave me a curious look but didn't speak a word. A small woman like me in the middle of the slums was unusual, but not uncommon. Many tend to wander here and there, whether like ghosts haunting the ruins of their beloved city or searching with purpose what could be salvaged from their home. Whatever the case, I wasn't a threat to him, but his eyes remained skeptical and aloof, a guard solidified by years of experience.

I met his gaze, and when I held out my hand, his eyes followed and fell into a mixture of confusion and slight relief.

Spark plugs weren't always easy to come by in the slums, so I fell into a habit of scavenging them from old cars and trucks. Granted I had none of my own, not even a license or registration to my name, but it was an urge I couldn't shake. I liked the feel of them in my hand and the constant thought of 'this may come in handy someday' was unrelenting.

Eli would like to chalk it up to being a hoarder of some kind, but I digress.

There were a little rusted and weathered from disuse, three different sizes but I figured the man would know what part he would need for his ailing beast. Motorcycles, especially custom-made beauties like this one obviously needed unique care and maintenance.

Still rather hesitant, the blonde reaches out and pulls one of the larger plugs from my palm and nods his head in appreciation, "Uh… thanks…" His voice is a low tenor, quiet and breathy as if talking was foreign to him.

I gave one of my own, a small smile curling my lips before turning back to my workshop up the road.

The beast purred like a kitten when I left.

"Here ya go," I stared surprised at the chilled glass of water that was placed down, and gave the barmaid an inquisitive brow.

"It's just water," Tifa chuckled at my expression and returned to her ritualistic cleaning of dirty glasses and counters, "On the house. You look worn out, so I thought I'd take pity." The words themselves were callous, but the smile behind them had me sinking deeper into my seat, hands steaming against the cold surface of the cup.

'Tell me about it…,' I thought with a biting edge, taking a few grateful sips and combing through my tangled locks, weary and in desperate need of a shower. I returned to Edge later in the evening, fingers sore and body covered in grease as I entered the bar in hopes of speaking to the black clad woman behind the counter. Once again, she greeted me with a welcoming smile and patted a spot at the counter while she attended her other patrons. We spoke little; or rather, I wrote nothing and simply watched as Tifa fluttered about the bar, caring for customers and refilling glass tankards with ease. It didn't feel right to interrupt her on days like this, when the tables were filled and I was lucky enough to score a seat away from blushing men and boisterous company. I felt content to watch her work, almost as numbing a sport as tinkering with machines that sent me down a slow slope into tranquility. Only then did I realize when the brunette dropped a chilled glass of liquid refreshment that the bar had emptied and it was well into the morning hours. I found myself doing this more often than I liked; gazing off into space and teetering the fence between daydreams and deep slumber. The bags beneath my eyes grew heavier as nights went by and bled into early morning with no break in between, and I knew it was only a matter of time (or until my face planted into Tifa's freshly polished counters from exhaustion) before the busty barmaid would notice this.

Perhaps I spoke too soon…

Tifa hummed in contemplation, looking me over with such a critical eye I felt my whole life lay bare for her to see. She scanned my clothes, the raggedness of my hair and the awkward grin I gave to deter her and pondered accusingly, "You know… You always come back here drenched in black oil. Are you sure you're just job hunting?"

Water nearly shot from my mouth and I quickly swallowed what I could, a mess dripping through my fingers as I struggled to come up with a good enough answer. It wasn't the first time she had asked something akin to suspicious inquiry about my days through Edge, but it always startled me how easy I was to read. I knew I needed to start cleaning up before I came to her, but I knew that once I made it home and took the much sought after hot shower that I wouldn't want to leave until the next morning. My attempts on the walk over here were pathetic, I knew, but I had hoped she'd overlook a few splotchy stains here and there. I cleaned as best as I could on short notice, figuring a few grease stains here and there would be passable under Tifa's scrutiny.

Clearly, I needed to do a better job.

' _I may have gone into the slums after I was finished,'_ It wasn't the whole truth but it was close enough to it that the barmaid slowly nodded in understanding, her guard dropping somewhat, _'Eli is always asking for more metal to play around with and I kept a couple pieces for myself. Mostly engine parts.'_

"Figures," she sighs affectionately with a tired smile pulling her lips, laying one last glass into the top cupboards before dropping her rag into the sink, "You two are regular grease monkeys, aren't you?"

I laughed silently, shaking my head and quickly responding in chicken scratch, _'I wouldn't say that. It was just something we picked up in the slums when we were kids. Nothing special.'_

"Nothing special, huh?" Tifa held her arms akimbo and gave me a stern once over, "You really have to stop counting yourself short so much. You've got more potential than you think, I just know it."

 _'Nah, you've got way too much faith in us, Tifa,'_ I responded with a casual wave of my hand, _'Tinkering was more of a hobby than anything. Kept us busy and out of trouble for the most part. Still does.'_

"What do you do with those engine parts anyway?" she wondered, tilting her hip slightly and cocking a brow, "Are you even _old_ enough to drive?" Tifa said snidely with a playful smirk toying her lips as I gave her an annoyed scowl.

 _'Don't be a cow, Tifa. I'm 22 and you know it! Just because I don't look my age…'_ I stopped and nearly chucked my pencil at her as she held her stomach in mirth, laughter leaving her lips freely and uninhibited. It was a constant thing for her to tease at my youthful appearance, one that I never took much offense to but easily grated on the nerves whenever the opportunity arose for it to be mentioned. I let her have her fun and slapped her arm with the notepad with a scowl, writing in bold letters. _'BITCH.'_

"O-Okay okay, sorry! It's just… you're so easy to tease!" Tifa shakes her head and takes a few moments to collect herself before speaking again, a smile still on her lips, "So… the engine parts?"

I sigh, _'Well, I don't really know. It's more of a bad habit than an actual need. Growing up, I'd steal old parts from clunkers and people who pissed me off. Collected them more as trophies than anything before putting them to good use. Sooner or later, it just became habit. Call me a klepto of car parts. I liked learning to take things apart as much as I liked putting them together, so eventually I started learning more about cars and trucks and all that, but I guess the habit kinda stuck.'_

"Well there's something! Why not be a mechanic? With Edge growing the way it is, it's going to be in high demand," she gave an encouraging grin, "A mechanic in Edge is just what everyone needs."

I rose a brow. _'I'm pretty sure I saw 3 mech shops on the way here.'_

"Yes, but not all of them have a pretty girl at the helm," Tifa winked with a smile, and truthfully her words put a lot in perspective. It was a possibility, a pretty good one.

But…

… _'So, what? You're my pimp now?'_

The brunette laughed and shook her head, "I'm being serioius! It's a good job and you're good at it!"

 _'I'm just… not so sure, Tifa. Doesn't that need permits and crap? Not to mention I'd need a translator, a place, start-up cash… and I honestly don't think I'm that good. I just tinker, Tifa. I'm not anything special, you know tha-'_

"Now that's enough of that!" Tifa slapped her fist against the counter, reading over what I had and stopping before I wrote anymore. I dropped my pencil and stared at her in surprise, the heat of her gaze somewhat frightening. "You need to stop selling yourself short, Pepper. You can't just give up on something because it's too hard, too much money, or you think you're inadequate. Just be yourself, despite your handicap and everything will fall into place. No more griping, and no more demoting yourself. Any more of this and I'll start to think you're hanging around…" She drifted off, her eyes going distant and she bit her lip as if to hold back any more words from escaping. She shook her head, "N-Never mind… um… what was I saying?"

This happened more and more lately. Whenever she mentioned that man, a coming and going vagabond that's been leaving more than he's been staying as of late, Tifa would lose some of her fire and quickly change the subject to something mundane. It worried me; I had come to think of Tifa as a good acquaintance, a spirited young woman who had experienced far too much hardship to carry alone and yet she remained standing strong and tall. To think a single man could bring this much concern and cripple this pillar to its knees… it pissed me off more than I thought it would.

 _'You should just kick him out.'_

The words were blunt but gazing into my eyes, Tifa could see the annoyance and ire building within and shook her head with a joyless laugh.

"I… I can't do that," the brunette responded, smiling weakly through her exhaustion, "I really can't. We've gone through so much together, with all that's happened and… we're all we have, Pepper… I just… can't stand the thought of him leaving us. I'm just so worried about him and he never answers his phone and rarely drops by. Denzel and Marlene, they're both wondering where he's gone and why, and he's taking so many deliveries, I'm starting to think he's doing this on purpose…"

Surprising myself in more ways than one, I reached out and touched her hand left cold on the freshly wiped counter, stopping her rambling with a sarcastic smirk and a sincere nod. I may not have understood the deeper meaning that lay hidden behind her waterfall of words, but I felt no need to pry. Only a kinship, a calm mutual understanding. Of only having that one special person you could count on, who understands you more than anyone ever could. Who's been with you through every trial and those to come… whoever this man was to Tifa, he was her lifeline. Someone she couldn't stand to lose. So, having him sever that connection, to leave her in the dark like this, it must have her worried to pieces.

I know that pain far too well.

Tifa lifted her gaze towards mine, wine meshing with chocolate and swallowed a giggle, squeezing my hand and returning with a smile knitted in gratitude.

 _'Forget I said anything then,'_ I wrote calmly and turned the pad towards her with a gentle smile, _'Why not keep trying then? He'll have to pick up eventually. Or maybe he already has.'_

"Oh yeah…? You think so?" she pondered aloud, eyes drifting to the floor in thought. Hope was thinly veiled in her expression.

I smirked. _'Well yeah. He's got two choices. He could listen to each message as they come in, or have them flood his inbox until they get mixed in with his work calls. Which, I guarantee, will piss him off in the long run.'_

The brunette shook with mirth and wiped her eyes. Whether they were of tears of joy or sadness, I could care less. At least I got her to laugh.

"I-I guess you have a point," she giggled and sighed, flicking a strand of hair over her shoulder, "Cloud wouldn't like that much. He's… not that patient." Something about that name caught my attention. 'I don't think I've heard anyone with a name like that, especially not a full-grown dude…'

 _'Cloud's his name?'_

"Oh yeah! Guess I never told you, huh?" she leaned on the counter appearing bashful.

 _'Not like it was important. Kind of a weird name though,'_ I shrugged nonchalant, allowing the image of a fluffy white monstrosity of a man juggle in the recesses of my mind. A funny picture, I'm willing to admit. Wonder what a guy with a name like 'Cloud' is like? Certainly not as flamboyant as his namesake.

"And Pepper isn't?" she smirked.

I gazed at the notepad, thoughts slightly muddled and wrote slowly.

' _Only name I got.'_


End file.
